Korra Wanderings
by wherewulf
Summary: Short stories based on The Legend of Korra.
1. Bonds

Hello, and welcome to _Korra Wanderings_. I can't make any promises about what you'll find here except for snippets and vignettes about _The Legend of Korra_. Hope you like what you find.

-Wulf

* * *

_**Bonds**_

Lin Bei Fong's body healed long before her spirit did.

She knew that would be the case, of course, even as they flew away in the police blimp from the site of her worst personal defeat. Her wounds were superficial, bumps, bruises, and scrapes compared to what she had suffered inside.

It still stung inside as she prepared for what lie ahead.

The loss of her men—most of whom she had helped and taught.

Her resignation from the Metalbending Police before the Council; Tarrlok's almost unbearable smirk.

Turning her back on her mother's dream, the dream of the previous Avatar… dear, long-suffering, all-enduring Avatar Aang, a man who was as much a father to her as…

She clenched up her face, angrily denying any tear a chance to start.

_But it is necessary,_ she thought to herself as she unhooked the cable assembly from the back of her armored uniform. _I am_ not _going to let those_ Equalists _have—my—men—_

Her eyes caught the badge on the armored breast of the uniform.

Her mother wore that badge.

She shook her head slightly, angrily. Her mother _made_ that badge. Toph had made it what it was, she and the first of the Metalbending Police of Republic City. The first of the best. That was what she herself lived for, to preserve the legacy, to fight for what her mother believed in. What she believed in.

Because of that, Republic City now stood, tall, proud…

Vulnerable… shot through with corruption…

Now she was leaving the badge behind.

She sighed.

She smiled a moment later, though, a small, unpleasant smile. _That badge_ had held her back from doing some things, too, things she couldn't do, hadn't done for love of the city, for love of the dream, for love of… him. She could do those things now.

She had been a little melodramatic in saying she would be going "outside the law", but after having upheld that law for so many years… she knew a few things. Now the gloves were off. She was no longer bound by any law, by any code.

Save one: she was going to get her men back.

She drew forth the cable leads from the back of the vest. Without the vest, the cable spools weighed considerably less.

Considerably less encumbering.

At the same time, without the law… without the right and wrong, without the structure… the armor, the badge could be as much exoskeleton as protection… what she stood for. The rule of order, the rule of law, which she was now setting aside because…

Because she had screwed up. Because _she_ had missed the chance for a trap that Sato had laid, because _she_ thought she could handle whatever came up, whatever could happen. And in her arrogance… now Tarrlok held the keys to _her_ domain, through that gullible, bribable idiot, Saikhan.

Gone.

Lin didn't have much in the way of clothes—she didn't need them, really, since she rarely spent time out of her uniform, except at home—and, typically, she didn't spend that much time at home, either—but she did have some simple, nondescript clothing for when she wanted to go someplace unnoticed. That, now, was her uniform. And the cable system fit inside with few telltale bulges.

A shapeless hat… a loose jacket… some baggy pants… and now, no one would have any idea that the former Chief of Metalbending Police was around. No hard angles, no straight lines, very… formless.

Without rules.

Dressed, prepared, as ready as she would ever be, she left her apartment. She turned the tumblers inside the keyhole-less door with metalbending, stood there a moment, sighed, and left.

This part of her life, for now, had ended.


	2. Bonds II: Ties

Thanks for reading, everybody.

I honestly meant for **_Bonds_** to be just a one-shot, but bruisedreed at Kataang Forever got me to thinking about what else might have happened from Lin's point of view, so you can thank her for this. :D This is written, of course, with the benefit of what did happen in the story, so there's this, and hopefully one more.

Thanks again for reading, everybody. :D It's greatly appreciated.

* * *

_**Bonds II: Ties**_

Strangled. That's what it felt like.

Lin had given her last, best effort in the defense of her former lover and his family, and she had gone down fighting.

She had defied Amon. She had insulted him to his face. And he… had reached inside her and strangled what had been a part of her essence.

Her Earthbending was gone. Or more to the point, it was still inside her, dead, like a corpse inside her living body. Senseless. Nerveless. Without feeling or connection. What had been part of what had made her who she was.

She had been Lin Bei Fong, the best Earthbender in the world, Metalbending Chief of the Metalbending Police of Republic City, known, respected, and feared throughout the world. The tried and proven daughter of Toph Bei Fong, the founder of the Metalbending Police.

Now she was… Lin.

Initially she had left off the Bei Fong part of her name as she had come to grips with what had happened, what had been done to her, what she had _allowed_ that Equalist scum to do to her. Her mother wouldn't have stood for it. Her mother wouldn't have gone down without a fight. But she had.

Could she really call herself her mother's daughter anymore? She didn't think so.

At first.

She had curled up fetally in her metal-barred cell—a metal barred-cell. Another reminder of what had been taken from her, another slap in the face, another taunt of her soul. Of what she'd been.

Eventually she had reached a resting place, a place to rebuild from, as she slowly took stock of what and who she was now. She still lived. She still breathed. She had been put in this prison _because_ the Equalists were afraid of what she might do if she were free.

She would rebuild. She would form a resistance to the Resistance. She would show them what being "equal" truly meant.

On top of that was a salving thought, a soothing balm to the wound she'd suffered—that even though she had lost her bending, the Airbenders had not lost theirs.

There would be other Metalbenders. Her mother's gift would not be lost. But Tenzin and his family were all that was left of the Air Nomads. They had to be protected, at all costs.

And she had done that, successfully.

That thought also brought a new presence, a new approval: her mother's. _That's right, little Nugget_, she heard her mother say. _You did the right thing. You did good out there. You took care of Twinkletoes' kids. You did the right thing._

That thought—that approval from her mother—made her smile and laugh a little, even shed a tear. It felt… good. After everything that had happened. After all these years.

A metal gate creaked and swung open—not hers. An Equalist dragged a sobbing woman down the hall, threw her into a nearby cell, slammed the door shut, and walked away. The woman rushed the cell door.

"Please! Please, _don't hurt them!_" Pema.

Lin's eyes went wide in shock and denial.

The Equalist turned around. "Don't worry, Bender scum," he said, his masked face unseen but his voice sneering. "We won't do anything to hurt your little darlings. We're going to make them just—like—us." He turned and walked away again.

Pema sagged into a heap at the cell door and cried uncontrollably. In horror, Lin's mouth dropped open, grappling with the thought that if Pema was _here_…

Inside of her, a forge ignited.

An unquenchable rage took hold of Lin. Her lips peeled back in a silent snarl. She started looking around her cell for anything she could find, anything she could use to open that door.

She was going to get out of this cell. She was going to leave this place, and take Pema with her. Together they would find Tenzin and the kids and break them out too. And together, however long it took, whatever it would take to do it, she was going to make Amon less than "equal" again—with his crushed face beneath her metal-shod feet.


	3. Bonds III: Legacy

Thanks, everybody. :D

I thought about leaving this as just a two-parter, but... the way Season 1 left off made me feel like there was lots more to say; I certainly hope we'll see the show address it. For now, I felt like I should say more (and finish off this little story series), so... part 3.

Hope you like it. And thanks again for reading, everybody-and most especially for commenting. XD

* * *

_**Bonds III: Legacy**_

Lin was busy at her desk, reading a report. Now as ever she wondered if there was such a thing as Paperbending that would speed things along—but the reports wouldn't write themselves, and the only way for the reports to be of use was for them to be read. She sighed. Quietly.

Occasionally she twitched the door lock open and closed with Metalbending, just because she could. Once again. She never felt turning a lock would feel so good. Or so normal.

She snorted at that thought. "Normal," she said derisively.

The "normal" that existed now was different from before… before the city had not been put through a war. Before the city wasn't split along bending and nonbending lines. Before people didn't look at their neighbors and wonder if they were friend of foe.

The Second Division of the United Forces—"Bumi's Wildmen", as they called themselves—had pacified the city. The Equalists had done a lot of damage, some to the United Forces, some to the city, but with their leader and seemingly their cause compromised, their will to fight evaporated. The Wildmen had knocked the Equalists flying, and they had melted away.

That was part of the problem. An Equalist without a mask looked just like anyone else. They had come out of nowhere, and they had gone back there. For the United Forces to occupy their own capital city, especially for any length of time, seemed ridiculous. But with the enemy in hiding…

Lin had come back with Korra, Tenzin, and the others to find a city on edge. The immediate threat had gone, there was a lot of rebuilding to do, but everything was… different. Amon had made no more pronouncements after his unmasking (and after he had scudded away in the water like the skunkfish that he was) and nothing further had been heard from the Equalists, but…

But.

Lin figured she might as well return to what she knew best, and she had gone to Police Headquarters to apply for a job. Anything would do, really, even a cop job walking a beat. She had been welcomed back with open arms by the Force and reinstalled in her old job as Chief. Saikhan had resigned after things had died down; word had it he no longer felt up to the job.

Of course, now that Lin had her old job back, she wasn't sure if _she_ wanted it, either. The city felt full of open wounds. Bender and nonbender had fought a war that had ended in victory for the benders, or at least a return to the status quo thanks to the United Forces. But the problems that had caused the war were still there. Amon might be on the run, but the Equalists were still there, and the City's police force that would have been meant to meet the threat was in shambles—most especially the elite Metalbending Police.

Lin put her stylus down and thought. The United Forces and her police made quite a contrast. The forces present were commanded by Iroh, a Firebender, but his second-in-command was Bumi, a nonbender. Saikhan, a Metalbender, had been _her_ second-in-command, and rank and prestige usually went hand in hand with bending ability among the city's police. Indeed, the Council of Republic City itself had turned into a collection of benders, Tenzin among them, idealistic as he was. Great Sokka, a nonbender, had served on the Council in the time of Yakone, arguably the time when this entire mess had gotten started.

What had changed?

There was a knock at the door. "Enter."

An officer poked his head into Lin's office. "Chief, the Council meeting is starting in half an hour."

"Yes, yes."

"You… asked me to remind you."

Lin sighed. "All right…" She stood from her desk. Maybe it was the events of the past few months, but she was starting to feel some creaks. "I suppose I should go attend."

"Yes, Chief."

She didn't return to her thoughts for a while. The Council meeting was long, sometimes amorphous. Lin couldn't think of good things to say about Tarrlok, but at least meetings with him stayed on agenda.

There was an agenda, but it mainly had to do with restoration, repair, return to normal—"normal" being defined as "before the Equalists attacked". When it was clear who was in control.

The tension out on the streets pooled in the Council chamber. The voices of the five Council members echoed. Other than the five Councilmen and -women, some of their staff, Korra, and Lin, no one else was in the chamber. No nonbenders clamoring for their rights. No benders complaining how they had been assaulted. Just... echoes.

Not that the offenses against the benders had been forgotten.

"I've… been thinking about the people in the Dragon Flats district," Tenzin said. "Their area took a lot of damage when the Equalists were put down. Perhaps it would be a gesture of good faith on our part if we were to put funding toward rebuilding their—"

"No," said the new Northern Water Tribe Councilwoman.

"But if we leave things the way they are—"

"_No_." The Councilwoman stood. "We will not devote resources to people who would only tear things down again. They should have thought of that before they started this war. You should know that yourself, Tenzin. They're still out there."

_They're still out there._ That was the overarching theme of the entire Council meeting… and the one before that… and the one before that. It could not be denied, of course; though Amon had been unmasked and Hiroshi Sato had been captured, there was no way of knowing how many Equalists _were_ still out there. In addition, as the Equalists had outsmarted the City's government and its police time and again, underestimating them now was clearly a mistake.

As the days went by, something else became clear to Lin.

The last of the United Forces packed up and headed back to their bases, leaving for now but still just a radio call away. The ranks of the Wildmen were now militarily crisp—but bender and nonbender marched side by side on their way out of the city. That was how they had fought, too—side by side, each one doing their part, bender and nonbender alike. Together.

The city, by contrast, had split into parts: benders in some places, nonbenders in others. The end of the fighting marked even more segregation. Benders would no longer live beside nonbenders, and vice versa. Trust was in ruins.

So was the dream of the Avatar and the Fire Lord.

The legacy of Aang and Zuko was dying.

Lin chewed that over in the days that followed, and she hated the taste. The Council was clearly not going to do anything to help its former enemies. The clock had to be ticking on the nonbenders' side, too. Being treated like enemies would only make them _feel_ like enemies—even those that had had nothing to do with the Equalists at all.

There would be another clash… and this time, both sides would indeed be made equal—in death.

That was another cause for heartbreak about the whole mess. Avatar Aang and his followers had never worked for equality.

They had worked for _balance_.

Avatar Aang had never demanded that any one nation be the equal of any other; he had worked toward a just peace, between all the bending nations and all of their peoples. Not that each nation should have an equal portion… but that each person of each nation could have an equal chance.

There was balance now between the benders, ironically enough, but the benders had been sheared off from the rest of Republic City.

_Or rather_, Lin's policewoman's mind answered, _the benders stand accused of _shearing off _the rest of Republic City. And we only thought about defending_ against _the Equalists. We never gave a thought as to what the Equalists' charges were. What they were accusing us of._

They had charged the benders with unequal treatment—bias and exploitation. _How?_ Lin wondered. _When and where? Who? And what can we do to answer those charges?_

The last question was obviously irrelevant; without knowing the specifics, there was no way to answer them. Time and again the thought came back: _no information. No information. No information._ The City had fought a war with an enemy they didn't know—and even more damning, the City did _not_ know why their enemy was fighting in the first place.

No wonder Amon had won—he had known more about the City and its defenders than they had known about him or the ones he had stood for.

That meant that Lin needed to learn about her one-time enemy—what they wanted, what they fought for, who they were. She thought she knew who to talk to to get what he needed, too.

But when she did… things didn't go as well as she had expected.

Shiro Shinobi laughed at her over lunch at a noodle shop. Lin's eyes narrowed. "I don't think my contacts can he-help you, Lin," he eventually managed to get out.

"Why? Before you went into radio, you were a newspaperman for years."

"Well, that's part of it." Shiro wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "I've been out of the business for years, too." He stopped laughing and looked at her. "Lin, I confessed to Republic City over city-wide radio that I was wetting my pants because one of those Equalists was about to shock me. Doesn't that suggest that maybe my sources are no good to you?"

"But—"

"I completely missed this thing coming. I didn't hear about it from anybody."

"But you _do_ still have contacts."

Shiro looked sheepish. "Well, yeah—"

"So let me talk to them. I want to find out why. I also want to find out what they want."

He looked at her askance. "Isn't that the Avatar's job?"

"Yes—and I just might involve her, once I get some groundwork laid. But _I_ need to do this first."

The askance look hadn't gone away. "You do realize they're gonna be suspicious—the Chief of the Metalbending Police wanting to talk to people about why they broke the law."

Lin nodded. "I know. I just want to talk to them—wherever they want to do it, under whatever circumstances they want, short of violence. We cannot have another war, and the Council isn't going to act. I feel now that I have to."

Shiro's eyebrow went up. "That's another thing. If you do this behind the Council's back, they're going to come down on you."

"I've already thought about that, and I think I have an answer," she replied. She leaned in. "Will you do it?"

Shiro gave her a long look. Lin didn't move, or waver.

At the end of the look, Shiro nodded. "You may be a cranky old badgermole, but you've never lied or tried to mislead people. I think I can sell 'em that much."

Lin nodded. "Thanks, Shiro. I owe you."

He gave her a wry grin. "I'll remember that!"

As to Lin's plan on how to handle the Council, that _did_ go about as Lin expected.

Tenzin turned several shades of volcanic red. "_**What?!**_"

"Yes, Tenzin. On my own. I'm going to seek out the nonbenders."

"Lin, that's preposterous! That's a very dangerous thing to do! If you go alone without any support—"

"Something might happen to me, yes. But someone has to do something. The Council isn't about to. You know that as well as I do."

"Lin, you—it—_uhhhhh_." Tenzin sighed and rubbed his face. "You're probably right about the Council. They're too afraid to take any action that might help them."

"Exactly." Lin nodded. "So we must do it for them. There has to be a starting point for peace, and I honestly believe that finding out what the nonbenders want is part of that."

"I agree." His hand went to his goatee. "I'll have to keep this secret from the Council."

"Only until I have something concrete to give you. And then we can go to the Council together." A small smile. "Tarllok isn't the only one that can do 'special investigations.' "

"Lin… be careful."

She gave him a look. "As I would be with anything else… old friend."

So once more Lin sat at her desk, reading reports, waiting for news from Shiro and seeing if she could ferret any possible contacts out on her own. It was a start—maybe not the most promising of ones, but it was a start. It was better than letting the current situation continue to devolve into war once again, in Lin's eyes.

She _would_ involve the Avatar at some point. As the one who was publicly responsible for bringing balance to the world, Avatar Korra _should_ be involved, but already Korra had a track record of wanting to rush in and _get_ involved rather than waiting… and listening. Lin smiled. _Something my mother could have taught _her_ as she had taught Avatar Aang._

If nothing else, it was an attempt by one side—part of one side, to be fair—to reach out to the other. It was a beginning, an attempt to have the two sides talk about what kept them apart, and in so doing, it was an attempt to find ways to bring the two sides together. Given time, things would work.

Lin felt that somewhere, Avatar Aang was smiling.


	4. Fill 'Er Up!

Thanks, guys—papyrus, Vee, Olive Tree Hugger. :D

To answer your question, Olive Tree Hugger, I called the series "Bonds" because of the bond that's hinted at in the show between Aang and Lin. I think Lin has a great deal of respect for Aang, if not love, and part of that to me is love of his philosophy and the fruit of it: Republic City itself. Lin would want to see Aang's vision grow and flourish. There's also the bond between Lin and her mother, Toph (Republic City is the fruit of Toph's work, too), and the bond between Lin and the Metalbenders she trained and led. Later on, Lin's bond with Aang comes into play with Aang's progeny, Tenzin and his children, and as we know, Lin's not about to let Amon take their bending away without a fight. So… "Bonds". :D

In "Bonds III" I wanted to explore a "where do we go from here" angle, and I'm not done yet—I was, but after your comment, Vee, heaven knows there are plenty of things to explore. XD I felt that Lin felt that Aang was all about restoring balance between the Bending Nations but between the Nations themselves, and I agree, papyrus—Aang was not just making a world safe for Bending, and Lin after due consideration would come to the same realization, I think. That… is something I hope Mike and Bryan explore more. Here's hoping. I'll see if I have a "Bonds IV" in me one of these days. (And heck—Lin knows she's got skills, but I don't think she has ever been arrogant about it. She wants to do what she can, so… if a beat cop's the job available, then there it is. XD) (And sorry for such a long answer, Olive Tree Hugger. XD)

So this next one is more in line with my "ATLA Wanderings" work… just a little lighter. XD Thanks again for reading, everybody, and most especially for commenting.

* * *

**_Fill 'Er Up_****_!_**

There was a Cabbage Corp "Gas 'n Go" on the southern outskirts of Republic City. Everybody knew where it was, everybody filled up their Satomobile or Cabbage Car there, but not much happened there. You got your tank filled, your windows washed, your oil checked, your tires pumped up, and off you went. Done. At least… that's how the gas station jockey felt about it all. Nothing ever happened there.

It was a job, though, and that was the important thing, as his friends liked to point out. It was a steady source of yuans—and if that wasn't important nowadays, what was?

After taking care of car number thirteen for the day, the attendant topped off the oil cans, straightened the road maps, made sure the dried soup and noodle containers and the pot of hot water nearby were in order—again—and waited for the next customer. He looked over his shoulder at the neighboring service-and-repair shop. The company literature had it that Cabbage Corp's founder figured if things were going to get wrecked—as they often did around him, for some strange reason—he might as well benefit from it, hence the repair business. The attendant smiled. _That makes a lot of sense. Wouldn't mind doing that instead of this, too._ He sighed. _One of these days._

DING-DING!

Someone had run over the bell hose; a customer was coming in. The station attendant snapped out of his reverie and went to take care of the customer.

The car was a big police van, dark blue. The attendant put a smile on his face, but inside he was a little apprehensive. You didn't want trouble with the police. That always applied, of course, but nowadays…

He went to the driver's window on the van's left side. "Fill 'er up, officer?"

The driver's uniform was dark blue, too; Task Force. "Yeah. And make it quick."

"Yes, sir! Should I check under the hood, sir?"

"What? You gonna do something there, something… untoward?"

"No, just check the oil, make sure things are okay!"

"No. Things are fine. We don't need you to make 'em less fine. Just fill up the car."

"Yes, sir!" The attendant went to the pump. _That_ he was actually glad to hear, even if it was threateningly phrased. It was a clear instruction, clearly indicated; fill up the gas tank, stay away from the hood, no mention made about the tires, so stay away from them. It made for a lot less trouble.

The van's gas tank seemed bottomless, but eventually it filled up. The attendant hung up the nozzle, screwed the cap back on the tank, and went back to the driver. "That'll be fifteen yuans, please."

A surly look. "Ya got a bill?"

"No, sir, but I can get you one. Be right back." The attendant went to his office, filled out a form, then brought it back on a clipboard. "There you go."

The officer wrote some ideograms on the bottom of the bill, then handed it back. "There. 'Have a nice day.' " He drove off.

The attendant looked up from the clipboard to see the rear of the van, moving away. He waved the clipboard. "Hey! Hey, what's this?"

"Bill it to Councilman Tarrlok!" the officer yelled back and laughed.

The attendant looked at the clipboard again. At the bottom the officer had written "Fuel Requisition – Task Force Officer #142" and the date. He sighed and glared at the fading cloud of dust on the highway. Well, _that_ would be coming out of his pay pouch. Bill Councilman Tarrlok? Right.

o o o

Later that afternoon (and after discovering a recent memo that said he _could_ bill the Task Force care of City Hall for "fuel requisitions"; boy, that was a relief), another car came in. This one was fancy, red with gold trim and sharp-looking whitewall tires. The attendant was on his toes; this was either a good thing or a bad thing. The owner of this car was rich, and that meant either a good tip or a bad attitude. He'd take his chances.

Not that he really had a choice, anyway.

He was about to go up to the driver's window when a stout older man got out of the back. He had streaks of gray in his black hair and wore pince-nez glasses and a well-tailored suit, and he had an intelligent, observant look to him. The attendant went to him. "Fill 'er up, sir?"

"Yes, fill 'er up," the man replied in a pleasant baritone.

The attendant nodded. "Thank you, sir. Certainly." He went to the pump and got the fuel started only to see the businessman unfasten the hood and _stick his head under the hood of the car._

In a flurry he ran for the hood. "Sir I can handle that that's my job—" Then he remembered the fuel was still running, and having _that_ run over would be disastrous. He stopped hard, turned around, ran back to the pump, turned it off, then headed for the hood again. "I really don't mean to trouble you sir but that's part of the service—"

"No, no, that's all right." The businessman pulled himself out from under the hood, stood, and smiled. "If I don't know what's going on with my own Satomobile, I have no business building them. It's good to keep my hands dirty. Hmm…" He drew the dipstick out from under the hood. "You don't have a rag handy, do you?"

The owner of his company's main competitor standing there, dripping dipstick in hand, asking him for a rag... short of the Fire Lord driving in for a fill-up, the attendant couldn't have been more surprised. He came out of his trance, gave himself a quick pat-down looking for the rag (which he knew darn well where it was, just not at this moment), found it, and handed it over to the businessman.

"Thank you." The businessman cleaned off the dipstick, put it back in its slot, then drew it out again. "Hmm… it's a bit low. That new oil isn't working as well as I thought."

"Did you need some oil, sir?" The attendant thumbed over his shoulder. "Or if you like, the shop will be happy to give your car an oil change."

The businessman looked at him. "Trying to steal my secrets, are you? Get a look at my newest model?"

The attendant's eyes went wide. "No, sir! You just said you were low on oil, so I thought I would—"

"No, no, that's all right." There was a twinkle in the businessman's eye. "I know you're doing your job. As it is, I wouldn't trust my Satomobile to anyone besides my own shop—not that you'd do anything wrong, I'm sure."

"I understand, sir. Certainly not a problem. Can I get you anything else?"

The twinkle was still there. "I was of the understanding that I was getting a fill-up."

Why that fact had to be presented to the attendant, he'd never know, maybe the quick sequence of events—but he did feel very sheepish. He winced. "Sorry, sir. Let me get right on that."

"Quite all right, son. You're doing your job."

The attendant went back to the pump, fitted the nozzle into the tank again, and turned it back on. It occurred to him that the repair shop probably _would_ like a look at the competition's newest vehicle if only to make some notes, but that certainly wasn't his intent in asking about the oil change. It was just good service, offering what the customer might need at that moment—and the businessman was quite right to say what he said.

He watched the man go around the Satomobile, checking the tires—again, part of the attendant's job, but the businessman didn't seem to mind. The man checked the wear on the tires as well. The attendant nodded; not many people did that, and should. He finished filling up the car, cleaned the windows (being careful to wipe the squeegee down after each stroke), and came to the businessman with the bill. "That'll be seven yuans, please."

The businessman brought out a thick sheaf of yuans, fished out a ten-spot, and plunked it into the attendant's hand. "There. Keep the change."

The attendant's eyes bugged out a bit. "_Thank_ you, sir!"

"Well worth it. You're doing good work here. And not to mess with my competition, but uh… if you ever feel the need, come by and ask for a job. I'll find you something."

Another jolt. "I'll, uh, keep it in mind, sir. Thank you."

The man nodded and got back in his car. "Keep up the good work!" He closed the door, motioned to the driver, and away they went.

The attendant stood there, ten yuan note in hand, dazed. He looked around. It eventually came to him that standing around looking like a shell-shocked turtle duck might not be in his best interest. He headed back to the shed.

Though he'd freely admit that he _did_ feel like a shell-shocked turtle duck. What a day.

o o o

Evening came, and rush hour: people rushing to get home from work, making a last stop for fuel before hitting the road for home.

The attendant liked rush hour. Things happened fast and furious, which was a pain, but usually that meant more cars and more people in a rush to get going, so they were less concerned about waiting for change. It made for more tips.

A delivery truck pulled up, brown, "Chan's Housewares" emblazoned on the side. A man hopped out of the driver's seat; he was thin and wiry, and had a thin mustache drooping from his lip toward his chin.

The attendant was there in a flash. "Fill 'er up, sir?"

The man nodded. "Yeah," he replied in a high gravelly voice. "Never mind the tires; we'll take care of that."

The attendant nodded in turn. "Very well, sir, fuel it is." _Hmm—odd day_, he thought, as he unhitched the fuel nozzle and put it in the tank. _But hey—"the customer's always right". I take care of the fuel, you take care of the tires, you get out of here faster, I get more cars in faster—we're all happy._

A few guys hopped out of the back of the truck wearing Chan company logos on their overalls; they were thin and wiry like the driver. It seemed odd how alike they were, nondescript… but they moved so fluidly, in coordination with each other. Still, they were doing him a good turn, checking and pumping up the tires.

The gas tank filled up faster than the attendant expected. He shrugged, turned off the pump, hung up the nozzle, and secured the cap on the tank. He reached for his bucket and squeegee. _A quick wash and wipe can't hurt_. _They didn't say anything about the windows._

A couple quick brushes and swipes took care of the driver's side and front windows, nice and easy. He worked his way around the front of the truck, started to work on the passenger's side windows, and saw a figure in the back of the truck—a hooded figure wearing a white mask with a big red circle on the forehead. The figure in the mask started to turn in his direction…

He turned away quickly and moved away from the truck. _Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh—_

Only to almost run into the driver. "You don't want to look in there."

"L-l-l-look where? There? Oh, n-n-no sir. Against c-c-company policy. We're n-n-not supp-p-posed to look anyplace inside a c-c-c-ar."

"Good. What's the bill?"

"Bill? O-oh, yeah. Eleven y-yuans, please."

"All right." The driver got out his wallet and brought out a ten yuan note, then fished in his pocket and produced a one-yuan coin. He handed them to the attendant. He signed to the other Chan workers, who climbed back into the truck. They drove off.

The attendant swallowed. No tip at a time like this was probably the best tip he could get. He was also beginning to understand why his company's founder thought repair shops were such a great idea.

o o o

The moon rose from behind the hills and bathed the city in its light. The attendant was about ready to call it quits for the night. It had been a good day, but he had gained a new understanding of the Earth Kingdom curse, "may you live in interesting times." He'd had his fill of excitement for a while.

He was just about to hit the lights when one last car drove up—another fancy one, like in the middle of the day, but a convertible, black, filled with four kids. _Kids._ He groaned to himself, then stopped, and smiled. _To be honest, this is _my_ level of excitement._

He came over to the car. "Hey, folks. Fill 'er up?"

The girl at the wheel smiled. "Yes, please."

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Coming right up." He went over to the pump and got things started.

"I _still_ think we should check out that place that the Task Force hit," a stocky guy in the back said.

"We could," said the thinner guy in front, "but it could be dangerous. Now that the Task Force has been there and gone, they'll be doubly ready."

"Or _maybe_ everyone will ignore the joint since it's been discovered, and we can look around for _clues!_ We _gotta_ find something on these guys!"

The thinner guy turned around. "Bolin, I _don't_ think it's a good idea. They've been one step ahead of us the whole time. They could have cleaned up everything there and left behind some traps. I don't like it."

The stocky guy in front turned away frowning. "You always don't like my ideas."

"Bolin, it isn't because of _you_. What the Task Force didn't find the Equalists probably cleaned up. They _know_ the Task Force knows about that place and so now do Bei Fong's Metalbenders. They wouldn't leave anything behind that would leave them vulnerable!"

"I'm with Bolin." A lithe, well-muscled blue-clad girl pounded her right fist into her left hand in the back seat. "It's time we did something to these guys—and to do that, we gotta know what they're doing."

"But _not_ _this_ place," the thin guy insisted. "We could be playing right into their hands. Again."

The girl in back gave him a look. "Well, why don't _you_ come up with something, Mister Planbender?"

"I will." The guy returned the look. "As soon as I think of it."

"Which will be when? Before or after Amon takes out something else?"

The attendant finished filling up the car. He had a good idea who was in the car here, and it was clear what they were after—but those guys that came through before… if they found out…

"Listen." The voice of the girl in front was soothing; it sounded like she had done this before. "I agree with Bolin and Korra that we ought to do something, but I agree with Mako that we have to be careful. This might not be the best place. If we found someplace where they'd just been, it would be better."

The gas tank full, the attendant turned off the pump, screwed the cap back on the tank, came to the driver's side, and cleared his throat.

Four heads snapped around, startled.

"Check your oil and tires, folks?"

Sheepish relief blossomed on their faces. "Tires," said the guy in front. "Yeah. Uh, no, that's okay. We'd better get going."

The attendant smiled. "Okay, that'll be eight yuans, please." The girl in front nodded and started to open her wallet.

Something inside the attendant quivered, vacillating… then he made up his mind. He looked quickly to either side, then came a little closer and lowered his voice. "And you didn't hear this from me, but uh… there was a truck that came through here a while ago? 'Chan's Housewares' was on the side of it. The guys coming out of the truck looked pretty suspicious… and they didn't want me looking into the truck either."

"Why?" said the girl in the back.

"Why didn't you say this before?" said the guy in front.

"Because I didn't wanna bother you guys. Company policy. But I did see a guy in the back of that truck…" He looked at the girl in back. "A guy with a white mask, if you know what I mean?"

"That's it! Let's go!" said the girl in back.

"Yeah!" said the guy in back. "Let's get 'em!"

"Where were they headed?" asked the guy in front. "Did they say anything?"

"No, they said nothin', but they were headed downtown. But you didn't hear it from me!"

"Why do we never hear anything from anybody nowadays?" moaned the guy in back.

The girl in front placed some money in his hand. Her hands were as warm and as soft as her voice. "Thank you. We really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, miss." The attendant nodded and stepped back. He looked in his hand—and there was a twenty yuan note. He looked up quickly. "Uh—"

"Keep the change. Please. You really helped us."

"Uh…"

The girl started the Satomobile, then waved as she drove away. "Thank you!"

The attendant watched them drive away, pretty girl at the wheel, raven hair flying, a twenty yuan note in his hand and her thanks in his ears. He waved with a silly smile, feeling dazed. "Goodbye…"

After a moment of standing there with that silly smile, he headed back to the shack, feeling pretty good. Yeah… some days, it really paid to be a gas station jockey.


End file.
